


31 Wundrous Oneshots (Mogtober 2020)

by TillyWunderWing



Category: Nevermoor Series - Jessica Townsend
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, Gen, Halloween, Hotel Deucalion, I literally don’t know what to tag these as so I’m just vibin, Jupidad, M/M, Mogtober 2020, Multi, Oneshot collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Would you look at all this ~gay~
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TillyWunderWing/pseuds/TillyWunderWing
Summary: A series of oneshots for Mogtober!1. Mog reflects on life at Crow Manor.2. Lam discovers her knack.3. Miss Cheery decorates Hometrain.4. Frank plans a party.5. Martha works a day at the Deucalion.6. Jack learns something about Mog.7. Cadence tries on a costume.8. Mog and Hawthorne have a sleepover.9. Israfel takes Jupiter flying.
Relationships: Hawthorne Swift/Archan Tate, Jupiter North/Angel Israfel, Martha/Charlie, Morrigan Crow/Cadence Blackburn
Comments: 52
Kudos: 72





	1. Crow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day one: Morrigan
> 
> TWs: Referenced/implied abuse (mentioned)

Morrigan had never truly felt at home in Crow Manor.

She couldn’t quite place what it was about the house that made it so unfriendly. She knew a few of the factors, yes, but she found she could never pin it on any one thing. Maybe it was the pointed glares her father would give her across the table during dinner time. Or maybe it was the way the maids all walked slightly faster whenever they caught sight of her.

Scandalised whispers would always follow Morrigan down the ashy streets, and she wasn’t oblivious to the distaste most people had of her. To say  _most_ people hated her was a bold claim, really—it implied that there were at least  _ some _people who didn’t despise her, and Morrigan doubted if there was a single resident in Jackalfax who didn’t openly flinch when her name was uttered.

The only thing Morrigan had ever really liked about Crow Manor was the house itself. Aside from its less than favourable inhabitants, Morrigan found the endless, mysterious halls of the manor to be of great fascination. She had vague memories of exploring the estate for hours as a young child, mentally mapping every dusty hallway and taking note of all potential hiding spots if a particularly displeasured adult were to walk by. Young Morrigan had found these hiding spaces to be rather useful, as her father always seemed to be irritable for a reason she couldn’t quite grasp.

She figured it out eventually, though. By the time she’d grown too big for her hiding spaces, she realised what she was hiding  _ from.  _ And then she started looking for some larger places to crouch out of sight, because her father’s perpetual bad mood had only worsened with the years, and Morrigan at last understood what its consequences would be if she had no way of sheltering herself from it.

She didn’t like to think about it much. She  _didn’t_ think about her life at Crow Manor much, generally. And she tried to keep it that way.

There was just something so fundamentally painful in the knowledge that her own father was the person that least wanted to have her around, but she didn’t recognise that. She thought it was normal; that all cursed children received the same treatment. Maybe they  _ deserved  _ it, for the chaos and unhappiness that followed them like storm clouds.

It... hurt. But it was normal.

And then came the day that everything changed.

For years, Morrigan would look back on that night as the first—and perhaps only—happy memory she would make as a resident of Jackalfax. She was terrified every moment of it, nauseous with fear and dizzy with anxiety... but it was the first time anyone had gone out of the way to do something for her, to  _ make her feel important. _

This strange, unfamiliar man with wild ginger hair and fiery blue eyes, had looked at Morrigan, looked at her situation, and given her an  _ escape.  _ He’d offered her safety, and protection, and a  _ better way out,  _ and he hadn’t even hesitated. The very first time he’d met her, he’d given her a look that nobody else had given her before—a look that said  _ I’m here for you _and  _I believe in you_ and  _ you are important to me. _

Morrigan had trusted him instantly, and it was a truly strange experience, because she’d never found the nerve to trust anyone before.

Looking back... she didn’t regret a moment of it.

Everything had changed that night—and it wasn’t just the fact that she had a real future ahead of her. For the first time in Morrigan’s life, people didn’t glare at her from across the street, or gasp in horror when she came close. People actually  _ smiled _at her, and were kind to her, and it took her a while to identify the fuzzy feeling it gave her. (Later, she would learn to call it happiness.)

For the first time in eleven long years, Morrigan had a place she could truly call home. And this time she had a family to share it with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyye here we go! I’ll try to update this daily but don’t be surprised if I fall behind. Rest assured y’all will get y’all’s oneshots... it might just take a while 😗


	2. Radar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day two: Favourite 919 member that’s NOT Morrigan

She saw the teacup shatter before it hit the floor.

Princess Lamya leaned forward to catch it deftly midair, handing it back to the shocked maid with a grim smile. 

“You dropped this,” she said curtly. The maid took the unharmed cup and scurried away, visibly mortified, but Lamya paid no attention. She had more pressing matters at hand, and the doctor sitting across from her was staring at her with thinly pursed lips, scribbling rapidly into his clipboard as he glanced at the spot on the floor where the teacup would have landed.

“How long did you say you’ve been having these headaches for?”

“A few years,” Lamya answered quietly. “Small at first, but getting worse over the last few months. I’ve had them at least twice a day for about a week, and they’re not getting any better.”

He nodded ever so slightly, continuing to write notes on his clipboard. He was seated in a luxurious velvet armchair, and Lamya was perched on the edge of an elegant loveseat opposite him. They were in Lamya’s bedroom—it was more of a chamber, really. Tall gold-panelled walls gave way to gorgeously painted ceilings, from which a chandelier sparkled with thousands of tiny, iridescent crystals, hanging just over the doctor’s chair. The Royal House of Ra was... excessively lavish sometimes, which Lamya found often worsened her situation.

“And you say you’ve been having these—“

“They’re not prophecies,” Lamya cut off, before quickly growing flustered. “Sorry. I didn’t... I just... knew you were going to say it. I’m sorry.”

The doctor smiled patiently. “It’s alright, Princess. What would you call them?”

“I’m not... really sure.” She paused for a moment, fixing her gaze on the chandelier above. A familiar nervous sensation began to spread through her, and she bit her lip. “I get this... feeling. I’m not sure how to describe it. I start to feel... anxious...? Excited?” She bounced her leg, still staring at the chandelier. “It depends on what happens... after.”

“Which would be?”

Lamya froze. “Move.”

“I’m sorry?”

_ “Move!” _

Lamya leapt forward without really thinking, tackling the doctor out of his chair and causing them to both fall backwards onto the cold marble floor. Moments later, a horrendous crashing jingle sounded from behind them, as the chandelier fell directly where the doctor had been sitting moments earlier.

She stood up quickly, breathing heavily as she smoothed the folds of her silky purple dress, casting nervous glances at the door. The doctor rose to his feet with a groan just as a frazzled group of servants appeared at the doorway, casting horrified glances at the shattered chandelier.

They were on Lamya in an instant, asking if she was okay, what happened, would she like some tea—but the doctor quickly shooed them away, insisting he would handle everything. Reluctantly, they left the pair alone, leaving them both to stare at the chandelier’s remnants in silent shock.

“So you... see things? Before they happen?”

Lamya nodded. “Sometimes it’s small things, like bits of a conversation or what’s for breakfast. And sometimes it’s...” She trailed off, gesturing to the wreckage before them.

The doctor took a few stunned steps back. “Incredible...” he muttered to himself. “I’ve never...” He locked eyes with Lamya, who was staring at him in blatant confusion. “Could you... excuse me a moment, Princess? I need to make a call.”

Lamya sighed, feeling another headache crawling up the back of her neck—the  _third_ she’d had that day. “Of course. Just... please try to be quiet about it. If you can.”

Nodding animatedly, the doctor pulled his cellphone from his pocket, rapidly dialling a number in while he strode to the opposite end of the room.

“Dave? Yep, hey, it’s Eric. Look, I need a tiny favour...”

A brief pause.

“Wh—that’s not—okay, fine. Maybe it’s a huge favour. But...”

Lamya rubbed her temples, wincing.

“...trust me, babe, you’d be doing  _ yourself  _ a solid with this one.”

Pause.

“Mhm. Well, okay, I know you can do that. But, well... she’s kind of... royalty.”

Lamya looked up. What in the world was he  _ talking  _ about?

“You can get her through? Good, great—you’re a legend, Dave-o. Yep, I’ll handle the cover story, you know I always do.”

A long pause. Lamya was growing increasingly concerned with the nature of the conversation, when...

“She’s an  oracle,  Dave. Short-range, but a powerful one. She could be Wunsoc material.”

_ One sock...?  _ He’d lost the plot, surely.

“Mhm. A radar, you said? Okay. Okay, I’ll tell her that. Yep... yeah, that should be fine. I’ll have her there by tomorrow. Yes, I’ll be careful. I love you too. Bye.”

A small click, and he placed the phone back in his pocket, turning to Lamya with a placid smile.

She narrowed her eyes at him.  _ “What  _ was that about?”

The doctor heaved a deep sigh, playing with the cuff of his shirt sleeve as he crossed the room to sit across from her again, gesturing for her to take a seat. She did so silently, blinking away her headache as he watched her thoughtfully.

“I’m fine,” she answered before he could ask. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

The doctor leaned forward, chewing the side of his mouth. “Okay. So... do you know what a knack is?”

* * *

“So these... one sock people.”

“Wunsoc, your highness.”

“That’s what I said. You claim they can cure our daughter?”

“Well... not quite.” The doctor tapped his pen on his clipboard. “They won’t take her knack away, but they’ll teach her to cope with it. If she learns well, the headaches will go away, and she’ll be able to use her talent for good. It’s a very useful knack, to be an oracle—and quite sought after. Assuming she can make it through the first few trials on her own, she should have no problem landing a spot in the next Wunsoc unit.”

It had taken quite a bit of explaining for Lamya’s parents to grasp that their daughter could see the future, and then a lot more to persuade them into sending her to Nevermoor to compete in the Wundrous Society trials. They’d also needed an explanation as to where Nevermoor actually  _ was,  _ and why they’d never heard of it.

All things considered, it had been a very exciting day.

“How do we explain it to the public?” Lamya’s father prompted again. “She’s  _ royalty.  _ She can’t just disappear.”

The doctor straightened up, speaking in a firm, professional voice without skipping a beat. “Your highnesses, I am afraid the Princess has come down with a nasty case of Veridian Flu. It’s a very rare affliction, you see, and quite debilitating. She’ll need to be on bed rest for quite some time before she can fully recover.” He cleared his throat nervously as the family gave him varying looks of surprise. “And then I suppose you could bribe someone into pretending to be your bedridden daughter for a few years.”

“Veridian Flu...” Lamya mumbled. “You made that up, didn’t you?”

The doctor shrugged sheepishly. “Like I said—it’s very rare.”

“ Will she be safe?” Lamya’s mother asked in a low whisper, her eyes tearful.

“I assure you that your daughter will be well cared for in the Free State, your highness. My partner will have already tracked down a suitable patron to take her under their wing, and we will be extremely cautious to hide her identity when crossing the border. In fact...” The doctor sucked in a breath. “It may be best if she... assumes a  new  identity. To be safe.”

The family fell quiet.

“Nothing too extreme,” he added gently. “Perhaps just a minor name change. Princess, your full name is...?”

“Lamya Bethari Amati Ra,” she responded quietly.

“Okay. We’ll shorten it.” He shifter in his seat. “Lam... Beth... Am... Ra. Lam Beth Am Ra. Or, no... Ama Ra. Lambeth Amara.” He tightened his grip on his pen. “Is that okay?”

Lam nodded.

“Okay. Now, Dave’ll be here to help us cross the border tomorrow, so I’ll leave you the rest of the day to make your necessary arrangements...”

“We could be executed for treason,” Lam said. Everyone in the room grew very still. “You said it yourself—we’re not even supposed to know the Free State  exists.  If I were to cross the border... to live a  lie... ” She paused, wide-eyed, unsure what to say. “What happens when people find out?”

“They won’t find out.” The doctor stared at her with measured confidence. “Trust me, Lamya—or, Lambeth—“

“Just call me Lam.”

“Trust me, Lam. Nothing is going to happen to you or your family.” He have a small, determined nod. “I’ll make sure of that.”

* * *

“Stay safe, sweetie. We love you very much.”

Lam’s mother met her with a tight hug as her father handed her the suitcase she’d packed the night before. They were gathered at one of the palace’s smallest back entrances, where hopefully no one would notice the princess slipping away.

“I love you too, Mother,” Lam said in a tightly controlled voice. And then she turned and walked away without another word.

She felt her heart shatter a tiny bit as she left her parents behind, but she told herself she was doing the right thing—that this was what she  had  do. For her family’s sake more than her own, Lam told herself that this was the only option she’d had, and she pressed on, squinting as she exited into the bright sunlight.

“Ready to go, Princess?” The doctor stood near the exit, in front of a comfortable yet plain-looking carriage that would take Lam away to her new life.

Lamya—Lam— _Lambeth_ took a deep breath and nodded.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t rlly have a 919 fav I love ALL the kids,, but I had to pick the one with the most interesting fic concept so Lam it is! We don’t rlly know a lot about her family or anything so here’s my take on that I guess.  
> Also yes Dave and Eric are dating. Because I said so  
> (Also my Hollowpox order is taking forEVER to get here and I am going to yell)


	3. Hometrain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day three: Favourite adult character

_ Sweet mercy above, this place is BORING. _

Marina looked around at the plain, lifeless carriage with undisguised disdain. She remembered her own Hometrain from when she was a young Wunsoc scholar—dull wooden desks and bare grey walls, much the same as the cabin she was now standing in. A place meant simply for existing in, but never quite for  _ living. _

Marina Cheery was an avid fan of the colourful, and looking around at the empty train, she vowed to herself that her unit would have not a single dull moment when aboard this carriage.

_ I’m gonna need a lot of pillows,  _ she mused.

* * *

_ Anah Kahlo. Healer. _

Marina grunted with effort as she pushed a plush maroon armchair into place.

She found herself cycling through a mental list of her designated scholars as she decorated. It was something to fill the silence, and she wanted to make sure she was prepared to meet them all.

_ Francis Fitzwilliam. Chef. _

She tossed a beanbag over her shoulder, and it landed on the floor with a heavy thud. The whole carriage shook a little under the weight of the impact.

_ Mahir Ibrahim. Linguist. _

She stood on the edge of a wooden chair, tongue sticking out in concentration as she stuck a poster to the wall. She didn’t wobble once—she was a tightrope walker, after all.

_ Thaddea MacLeod. Fighter. _

A pile of blankets were dumped unceremoniously onto a large green sofa. There was quite a mixed range of fabrics—from thick woven wool to hand-sewn quilts, Marina was sure she had a blanket for every possible occasion.

_ Archan Tate. Pickpocket. _

She hummed to herself as she pinned a string of rainbow fairy lights over the Hometrain windows. Flicking them on for a test run, she smiled at the glittering reflections they made on the roof.

_ Lambeth Amara. Oracle. _

She staggered under the mountainous weight of the cushions in her hands as she began to spread them, one by one, over each of the unique chairs and sitting spaces she’d established on the train so far.

_ Hawthorne Swift. Dragonrider. _

Marina cracked a tiny grin to herself as she tossed a plush dragon onto the blanket pile, arranging the fabrics around it like they were its hoard. Quietly, she hoped that her scholar would appreciate her comedic efforts, as she really tried to entertain, and... well, she thought she was funny, at least.

_ Cadence Blackburn. Mesmerist. _

One last tidy-up and wipe-down of the Hometrain’s new furniture, and Marina stepped back to admire her handiwork. The carriage bustled with colour and comfort, and she prided herself in the notion that her unit could truly make themselves comfortable while under her supervision.

_ Morrigan Crow. _

She paused.

_ Wundersmith. _

She’d been shocked to learn that one of her unit members was a  _ Wundersmith,  _ of all things.  Really, who wouldn’t have been at least a bit surprised?

It had taken her a few days to process it, but the strange thing was... she wasn’t scared. She was anxious to make a good first impression, yes, but no more so than she was with the other scholars. Because she trusted the Society, and she trusted  _ herself _ _,_ and she promised to provide each of her scholars with all the love and care they needed to thrive. Because at the end of the day, the knack didn’t matter—the  _ scholar  _ did. Wundersmith or otherwise.

Marina had been chosen to be a conductor, and it was a position she took very seriously. So what if one of her scholars was a Wundersmith? It only made her unit all the more unique.

And yet... something still felt... off.

Like something was...  _ missing. _

Marina thought for a long moment.

_...This train needs a biscuit jar,  _ she decided, smiling to herself. It seemed her work here was not quite done yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all know my main man Jupiter is actually my fav but.. I wanted to write about Miss Cheery so that’s what y’all are gonna get hehehe  
> (My Hollowpox copy is STILL IN SYDNEY I’M UPSET!! Bring her home!!!)


	4. Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day four: Favourite Deucalion member that’s NOT Jupiter

Decorations? Check.

Frank folded his arms, reviewing the Hotel lobby—which was decked top to bottom in vibrant purples and oranges, highlighted with swathes of midnight black and the occasional streak of deep, rich red. Streamers and cobwebs clung to the stair railing, stretching up all thirteen storeys, and strings of glittering fairy lights had been strung up in dizzying crisscross patterns, casting a twinkling glow over the ground below. The chandelier in the lobby also hadn’t escaped Frank’s decorating frenzy—several tiny, fuzzy toy bats hung from it, seeming to idly flap their wings as they dangled in the air.

Snacks? Check.

He’d been keeping a close eye on the production of the night’s delicacies—no doubt highly annoying the Deucalion’s kitchen staff in the process. In the end, though, the results had been satisfactory. Little red velvet cake pops had been dipped in white chocolate and topped with small circles of green and black fondant, painted with tiny streaks of red food dye to make them look like large, delicious eyeballs on sticks. Pretzels decorated with orange icing had been crowned with small mint-flavoured gummy leaves, making them look like pumpkins. Chocolate truffles had strips of liquorice attached to them to make them look like spiders. Sausages dipped in ketchup were decorated to look like severed fingers, and tiny pink brains had been carved from fluffy marshmallows. All in all, it was quite a macabre feast, and Frank  _ loved  _ it.

Music? Check.

Frank had selected one of Nevermoor’s spookiest bands to suit the occasion.  _The Shredders_ consisted of a batwun playing electric guitar, a wolfwun on percussion, a vampire on the electric keyboard, and an actual, genuine ghost as their vocalist. They were all the rage with the teens these days, and Frank figured they were a good fit for the party’s general theme.

Guests? Not quite there yet. But they would be soon.

Frank clapped his hands together gleefully. Hallowmas had arrived at last, and he was well prepared to make the night as memorable as it could be.

* * *

Jupiter approached Frank in the middle of the party. 

“Frank, good man, I know I say it every year, but this...” He put his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels as he looked around at the festive lobby. He gave a long, low whistle. “This is  _ spectacular.” _

Frank puffed out his chest. “Of course it is. You’ll find no better parties anywhere else in Nevermoor.” He gave Jupiter a pointed look. “You are  _ very  _ lucky to have me, North.”

“Hear, hear. I expect you’re responsible for well over half of our positive public rep.” Jupiter folded his arms. “Hey, do you know where Mog and Jack might be? Haven’t seen either of them all evening.”

“Oh, yeah.” Frank gave a slightly sheepish grin. “I put them both in bat costumes and sent them to chase guests down to the party. Just follow the sound of running and screaming and you’ll probably find them.”

Jupiter gave a high pitched, almost exasperated chuckle. “You serious?”

Frank shrugged, turning his eyes to the spiral staircase. “See for yourself,” he said, and Jupiter followed his gaze.

A group of guests were barrelling down the stairway at an alarmed pace, squealing excitedly. Pursuing them was a large, fuzzy dark blur, who was attempting to threaten them in what was perhaps the least threatening way possible.

“Fear me!” It came to a halt at the foot of the stairs, flapping its fabric wings with pride. “I am darkness,” it hissed. “I am  _ night.” _

“You’re overselling it, Morrigan,” said its companion—dressed in a similar costume, though a little taller than her, and with a leather patch obscuring one eye.

“I am DOOM,” Morrigan declared ferociously. The guests she and Jack had been pursuing hurried away, giggling among themselves.

Regarding them from across the room, a small smirk crept across Jupiter’s face. “Well. Glad to see they’re having fun.” He shot Frank a wink as he stepped away, presumably to check in on his hyperactive batlings. “Stellar job as always, mate!”

And then he had disappeared into the bustling crowd of colourfully dressed party-goers.

Frank rubbed his hands together, baring his fangs in a vaguely threatening grin as he mentally reviewed the night’s schedule.

Hallowmas was Frank’s absolute favourite holiday, and the night’s celebrations had only just begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eheheheh hello kings and queens. I have absolutely nothing to say for myself xx  
> Okay so school started back up and I finally got Hollowpox and my mental health has been an entire roller coaster and the Nevermoor discord just turned a whole year old omg?? Also I FINALLY! GOT! HOLLOWPOX!!! AND IT’S SO GOOD AND I’M LOSING MY MIND AND AGH THERE’S JUST A LOT HAPPENING  
> So yeah uh,, I feel behind schedule a bit (*cough* a couple weeks late *cough*) so this is probably gonna turn into more of a Mogvember... maybe a Mogcember... idk. But I’ve got a few oneshots queued up for this which I haven’t posted yet so I’ll try to get those out soonish!!  
> Sorry again for the long wait babes. Hope you enjoyed this one :D


	5. Maid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day five: Favourite side character

The day always started with breakfast.

Martha was a bit of an early bird—most days, she’d be up sometimes as soon as 5am, getting herself fed, cleaned and clothed for her daily shift at the Deucalion. She’d spend a few minutes tidying, studying the week’s schedule—Frank always kept the calendar quite busy—before heading out to begin her day’s work.

And the first order of business, as mentioned, was breakfast. She’d head down to the Hotel kitchens, collect her trolley, and travel around to various guest rooms, delivering fresh meals to each patron of the Hotel. At some point, without entirely realising it, she’d memorised the culinary preferences of the Deucalion’s more permanent residents—she knew, for example, that Morrigan liked her tea better with milk, and she knew that Jack preferred extra pepper on his omelettes. All small things, but she always found herself accomodating for them, and she liked to think that it put its recipients in a slightly better mood for the start of their day.

The spaces between meals were often spent cleaning, though that fluctuated depending on the Hotel’s calendar. Sometimes she’d be enlisted to help Frank decorate for an upcoming function, or to assist Kedgeree in particularly hysterical customer service situations. A guest had once rampaged for nearly an hour because the carpet in his room was ‘too obnoxious’, and it had taken a small army of the Hotel staff to eventually calm him down. Later, when bringing him his dinner, Martha noticed that the rug had become even more dizzyingly vibrant, and she couldn’t help but smirk at the Hotel’s blatant act of defiance.

In fact, that was one of the many things Martha adored about working at the Deucalion. In her years of employment, she felt as though she’d come to know the building as an old friend, and its small quirks and oddities made the entire place feel ecstatically, indisputably  _alive_.  There was never a dull moment inside the Deucalion’s walls. Sometimes, when she’d hum to herself as she travelled down the hallways, she could swear that the building was creaking along to the tune, as if it were trying to sing along.

There were also her coworkers, of course. The admired Jupiter, brilliant Dame Chanda, sprightly Kedgeree, grumpy Fen—so many wonderful individuals she’d come to love as family. There was dramatic Frank, and clever Jack, and sweet little Morrigan, and...

And, of course, there was Charlie.

Martha blushed to think of him. There was no denying how close they’d gotten during their employment at the Deucalion—the way they always caught each other’s eye from across the room, and how they were spending more and more time together, even off-shift. She was well aware, too, of the knowing looks her Deucalion family gave her when the two were particularly amicable toward one another. She supposed that whatever she and Charlie had going on wasn’t as much of a secret as both had presumed.

But he made her happy—truly, wholly happy, like he was the missing piece in the complex, infuriating puzzle that was her life. He was always kind, and gentle, and encouraging, and she felt completely comfortable to be herself around him. They shared inside jokes, and quiet moments, and stories, and secrets, and thousands of tiny displays of affection that all added up to something Martha liked to think was love.

And she did truly love him. She loved Charlie, and her Deucalion co-workers, and the Deucalion itself, and, above all, her place within it. She had somewhere she felt she belonged, and she was content simply to exist in it, confidently taking life in stride as she went about her business.

Martha completely, absolutely loved her job. And she made an effort to show it, every single day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not suuuper proud of this one... it’s a little boring imo but eh. Have some Martha ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> But srsly Martha is such a sweetie I love herrrrr <3


	6. Witness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day six: Favourite Nevermoor moment

“Damnit...” Jack hissed through his teeth as he stumbled on the stairway. Milk splashed across the Hotel floor, and he bit back a groan, wary not to wake anyone. With a resigned sigh, he knelt down to the growing white puddle, trying in vain to mop it up with the ends of his nightshirt.

The soft click of a door told him he had company, but he didn’t look up to acknowledge it.

Quiet footsteps receded from the spot where he was crouched on all fours, desperately trying to clean the mess he’d made, and then his visitor returned. Without saying anything, she knelt in front of him, a bathroom towel dangling from her hands.

He still didn’t look up at her. “It’s fine,” he protested, almost inaudibly. “I can do it. You’ll get your towel dirty.”

“You’ll get your shirt dirty,” Morrigan snapped back at him, smacking his hands away. With a reluctant roll of his eyes, he sat back on his heels, allowing her to take over.

Jack’s gaze flitted up to Morrigan at last, and then his stomach completely dropped.

He couldn’t even  see  her. The air around her was thickly swarmed by glittering pinpricks of Wundrous energy, drawn to her like rabid moths to one of the dullest, most annoying flames he’d ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Jack had never  quite  understood why his uncle would possibly want someone like Morrigan as a candidate. But as he saw her for the first time— truly  saw her, without the leather eyepatch blocking his view—Jack finally began to understand.

He stared at her, wide-eyed with mute terror, even though the bright, blazing dots of Wunder made his eyes sting. Jack found himself too horrified to look away as his uncle’s candidate cleaned away the last of his spilled milk, completely oblivious to what was happening around her—what she  _ was. _

“There,” Morrigan whispered, giving the dried floor a few bonus pat-downs. “You can put this in the laundry—what?” She’d met his gaze at last, her eyebrows knitting together. “What are you staring at?”

Jack didn’t have an answer for her. Luckily, he didn’t need one, as a few moments later she stood up quickly, anger clouding her expression.

“Your eyes are perfectly normal!” she spat, all attempts at being quiet having been entirely abandoned. Jack stood up too, with rather less success—he almost fell over as he kept his eyes fixed on the tiny white dots that swam around her.

It was only then that Jack realised Morrigan had never seen him without his eyepatch. Nor had she ever known why he wore it.

“You fraud,” she continued in an accusing tone. “You’re not half-blind at all. Why have you been pretending all this time? Does Jupiter know?”

Jack was, again, speechless.

“Stop staring, Jack, and answer me!”

Footsteps ascended the stairs behind them and Jupiter arrived, as if he’d been summoned by the mention of his name. “What’s this racket?” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. “There are guests trying to...” Jupiter broke off as he looked from Jack to Morrigan and back again, finally seeming to register the scene. “Jack?” he ventured softly.

“Did you know?” Morrigan asked. “Did you know he doesn’t need an eye patch?”

Jupiter ignored her, reaching forward to give Jack’s shoulder a careful shake. Jack snapped out his reverie, backing away slightly. Once again, he found that no words would come out of his mouth—all he could do was point at Morrigan with a single, shaking hand, as if silently begging for any kind of explanation.

Jupiter took Jack’s trembling hand in his own, speaking in a soothing voice. “Cup of tea, I think. Come on.” Jack allowed himself to be led down the stairs, his mind still reeling. “Back to bed, Mog,” Jupiter called over his shoulder.

“Me?” Morrigan sounded scandalised. “Why do I have to go back to bed? He’s the one who’s been faking half-blindness.”

This was, clearly, the wrong thing to say. Jupiter turned back to face her, fury written on his face. “Morrigan!” He repeated in a harsh whisper. “Back to bed. I don’t want to hear another word about this. Understand? Not a single word.”

Jack knew Morrigan was upset by the fierce way Jupiter had spoken to her—it stretched through the air like a long, dark tendril of betrayal and bewilderment. He also caught the flash of guilt from Jupiter, but his uncle showed no sign of it—he continued down the stairs without another word, one hand planted firmly on Jack’s back.

Halfway down the stairs, Jack twisted his head to look back at Morrigan. Through the glowing Wunder, Jack caught the hurt expression on her face, and for a moment their eyes met.

The two shared a long, shared look of undisguised confusion, and a silent understanding seemed to pass between them.

_ Believe me, Morrigan, I’m just as worried as you are. _

* * *

“So she’s—“

“Mhm.”

“And you—“

“Yeah.”

Jack took a sip of his tea, staring into the middle distance blankly. “How long?”

Jupiter blinked. “How long what?”

“How long have you... known? How long has she been like that?”

Jupiter sipped his tea, and a few thoughtful moments passed between them.

“I can’t tell you much at the moment, Jack, and I’m sorry for that—really, I am. I can certainly tell you that I’ve known a while. And as for the latter... well.” He gave a bewildered shrug. “You’d need to ask someone who knows a lot more about this sort of business than I do. Which you won’t find a lot of—people aren’t really fond of... of...” Jupiter trailed off. He didn’t need to finish his sentence for Jack to know what he was talking about.

“You should have  _ told me.” _

Jupiter gave Jack a mournful look. “I know. You’re right—it was cruel of me not to. Especially since I knew you’d find out eventually.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Jupiter ran a hand through his copper hair. “I just... you  _ hated  _ her. Right from the get-go—no, don’t even start. I could see it, plain as day—you two were at each other’s throats from the moment you met.”

Jack stayed silent.

“I just... I had no idea how you would  react,”  Jupiter continued, setting his teacup down on its tray with a quiet rattle. “You already wanted nothing to do with her—and who knew what you’d do if you found out she was... she was a...”

“Wundersmith,” Jack finished in a whisper. “Yeah. I get it.”

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Jupiter said sincerely. Sorrow filled his eyes as he met his nephew’s gaze. “I just... hope this can help you to understand. Why I brought her here for the trials, why she’s been staying here with us. Why she isn’t leaving anytime soon.”

“But why does it have to be  you?”  Jack demanded. He couldn’t stop the slightly jealous note that crept into his voice. “Why do you have to take her?”

Jupiter’s jaw tightened as he looked away. “Because no one else will. You have to understand, Jack—she spent eleven whole years of her life thinking she wouldn’t live to see thirteen. Her own family treated her like she was a  setback— a tumour they were just dying to have removed.” His voice quivered with barely controlled rage. “I can’t imagine how anyone could do that to a person—to their  _ own child.  _ Her own blood couldn’t step up to the task of treating her like a human being, so I’m stepping in to take over. Because...”

Jupiter took a deep breath.

“Because she deserves at least that much,” he finished quietly. “She deserves to have a home.”

Jack and Jupiter stared into the fireplace for a long time before either of them spoke.

“You always have been a giant softie, huh?”

Jupiter reached across the room to give his nephew a playful punch on the arm. “And you’re lucky I am! It is  _ well  _ past your bedtime, young man.”

The two of them chuckled quietly, and another beat of thoughtful silence passed.

“I think... I’m gonna try to talk to Morrigan more often.” Jack stared down at the carpet as he spoke. “I never really knew how much she’d been through, and... I dunno. I feel like I owe her at least one friendly ‘hello’. Even if she bites my head off for it, at least I can say I gave it a crack, y’know?”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Jupiter murmured in response. “Call me an optimist, but... I really do think you two would be good friends, if only you’d both try a little harder.”

“Do you reckon?”

“Yeah. I do.”

Jack gave a small smile as he downed the last of his tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi yes i did cry while writing this. justa few liddle tears. i think i am entitled to them.  
> So anyway October is basically over and I’m like a fifth of the way through the oneshots. Fun!  
> So I’ve kinda said this before but like by now this is just kinda a post-when-I-feel-like-it thing. Crazy schedules, stress, yadda yadda... but I AM still doing it. I might put it on hiatus or sideline it sometimes, but I’m not quitting! Jus takin my time,,,  
> But anyway I’m actually low key hella proud of this one so?? Let me know what y’all think! ✨


	7. Costume

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day seven: Favourite Wundersmith moment

“I’d avoid the costumes, if I were you.”

Cadence shot the colourful array of outfits a dubious look. “Why?”

It had only been about a half hour since Cadence first arrived at the Hotel Deucalion, and in that time she’d quickly learned that it was not, by any means, a normal hotel. Every turn of a corner seemed to have some new, mystical surprise in store, and so she was instantly inclined to follow Morrigan’s advice and leave the theatre’s gaudy costumes well alone.

“They’re... uh... I don’t really know how to explain it,” Morrigan said, rubbing the back of her neck. “I suppose you  _ could  _ try one on if you wanted, but trust me... you don’t want to.”

Cadence scoffed in indignation, pulling the nearest costume down from the rack. It was a fairly basic costume—fluffy ginger cat ears and tail coupled with a pair of shiny black boots. “Right. And tell me what’s so scary about a little bit of Puss-in-Boots dress up?”

“Because it’ll make you act like the Puss,” Hawthorne informed Cadence bluntly.

Cadence rolled her eyes. “Sure it will.”

“It will,” Morrigan confirmed.

“I don’t believe either of you.” A small voice in Cadence’s head told her that she probably should, but she pushed it away.

“Do it,” Hawthorne egged. “Put it on. I dare you.”

“Don’t.”

_ “Don the cat, coward.” _

“Fine! I’ll put the stupid costume on,” Cadence huffed, to Hawthorne’s visible delight and Morrigan’s evident dismay.

Cadence slipped the fuzzy ginger ears over her head, stepping into the boots as she made sure the headband was secure. She looped the long tail haphazardly around her waist, and then bent down to tie up the black bootlaces. Morrigan and Hawthorne watched her with rapt interest.

Cadence stood up as she fastened the laces, patting herself down gingerly. “I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal of it,” she mused, placing her hands on her hips. “It’s just a tail and boots, really. It’s not that im- _ purr _ -essive.”

Cadence clapped a hand over her mouth, horrorstruck at the loud, rumbling, undeniably cat-like noise that had escaped her. Hawthorne snorted, trying to cover it with a cough as Cadence shot him a death glare.

Morrigan gave a sheepish grin. “I told you that you wouldn’t like it...”

“ _Meow_ do I—“ Cadence cut herself off, looking frustrated. Hawthorne’s shoulders trembled. “How do I stop it?” she demanded.

Morrigan cringed. “You can’t, really. You just have to wait for it to fade.”

Cadence groaned loudly, a long, drawn-out noise which slowly pitched up into a caterwaul. Hawthorne giggled.

“This isn’t funny!  _ Sss_top laughing!” hissed Cadence—quite literally—as Hawthorne lost all control of himself and doubled over in laughter.

Cadence quickly rid herself of the offending costume, casting it aside and glaring at it with disgust, as if it were something slimy that had brushed against her leg as she swam through an ocean. “ _Rrr_ emind me never to ignore your advice again,  _ Meow_rrigan,” she sighed, not even trying to stop the little trills and feline chirps that passed her lips as she spoke.

The three left the theatre, and Cadence still found herself mewing and scratching her ears as Morrigan continued to show her around the weird, wacky place she called home.

“For the record,“ Morrigan offered as they walked, “I think you make for a pretty cute cat.” She gave Cadence a small, hopeful smile, which was very narrowly bordering on being a guilty wince.

“Shut up,” Cadence hissed, rolling her eyes—though she couldn’t quite suppress the small, rumbling purr that rose up from her chest and echoed through the hallway around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something abt this prose irks me but eh. She’ll do ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> Anyway stan Gaydence. And yes this is hints of Morridence mind your business 😌✨ (lmao y’all can look at it however u want idc)  
> If there are any typos or grammar errors just. Pretend you didn’t see em. Ao3 does not like italics today and I’ve pressed the preview button like three individual times and I am ~tired~


	8. Sleepover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day eight: Favourite friendship

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

_ “Morrigan,”  _ Hawthorne whined. “You can’t just keep picking truth!”

“Fine! I pick dare, then.”

“Oh! Okay. Um. I dare you to...” Hawthorne trailed off, chewing his lip. “I dunno. I didn’t think you’d actually agree to it.”

Morrigan giggled quietly into her pillow. They were about a week into school holidays, and Jupiter had agreed to let Hawthorne stay over at the Deucalion for a sleepover—but  only  if they promised to share unruly amounts of gossip and stay up until a truly outlandish hour. The duo had filled this quota masterfully, and were curled up on Morrigan’s bedroom floor, playing what Hawthorne was declaring an ‘exceptionally boring’ round of Truth or Dare.

“I dare you... to drop a slinky down the  whole  staircase. Straight from the top.”

“No.”

“You can’t just say no!” Hawthorne looked scandalised. “That defeats the purpose of the dare.”

“It’s half past  _midnight_ ,  Hawthorne.” Morrigan rolled her eyes. “I don’t even think I have a slinky.”

Hawthorne huffed. “Fine, then. Let’s just do something else.”

He rolled over onto his back, and Morrigan flopped down next to him, staring blankly at the ceiling. A few silent moments passed, which they apparently both found hilarious, as they dissolved into unprompted giggles almost simultaneously.

“Why are you laughing?!” Hawthorne wheezed, and Morrigan slapped a hand over her face as another fit of giggles overtook her.

“I’m only laughing ‘cause  _ you’re  _ laughing,” she said with a grin, as both of them finally managed to calm down. “Okay, truth or dare?”

“I’m gonna pick truth, only ‘cause your dares are so boring.”

Morrigan stuck her tongue out at Hawthorne. “Alright. Uh... if you had to date anyone in our unit, who would it be?”

“Uhh...” Hawthorne was silent for a few long moments. “I changed my mind. Dare.”

Morrigan sat up with a shocked gasp, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “No way.  _Spill_.”

Hawthorne covered his face with his hands, looking embarrassed. “I don’ wanna say.”

“Tell meee!”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Fine. But you have to answer the question too, cause you skipped your turn last round.”

“Deal.” She looked him dead in the eye. “On three. Ready? One, two...”

“Wait, on three or after three?”

“... After. One, two, three.”

Hawthorne muttered “Archan” at the same time Morrigan deadpanned “Cadence”.

“Ooh!” Morrigan rested her chin on her hands. “Arch, huh?”

“He’s just cool, I guess. This is—y’know, this is just out of our unit. Like, if I  _ had  _ to choose. You... you know how it is.” He gave a small, indifferent shrug, but even in the dim light of her bedroom, Morrigan noticed the tiny blush that coloured his cheeks. “So what’s this about you and Cadence?”

“Well... she’s...” Morrigan drew a blank. “Same deal as you, I guess. She’s cool. We’re pals, I think. Totally hypothetically, of course, if I had to pick... someone...”

“Of course, of course.” A few moments of silence passed before Hawthorne extended one pinky finger. “I won’t tell if you don’t?”

Morrigan took his pinky in her own with a solemn nod. “We take this to the  _grave._ ”

Both of them laughed at this, and they spent the rest of the night chatting and giggling, sharing their darkest secrets until the sun rose up over the horizon again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya girl had her first ✨panic attack✨ in health class today. Very cool and fun!  
> (I’m okay now but it felt truly Bad™️ so yeah that was my spicy experience of the day)  
> Anyway!! Here’s this. Two idiots, sharing the same half of a braincell. LOVE these dorks.


	9. Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day nine: Favourite relationship (canon or fanon)
> 
> Cw: Flying and cliffs - if you have a strong fear of heights, proceed with caution.

Jupiter’s legs dangled off the edge of the cliff as he stared out into the vast, glittering ocean before him. Moonlight sparkled over the gently rolling waves, bathing the cliff face in a soft glow. The sea breeze ruffled his ginger hair, and he let out a long sigh, watching as waves crashed against the rocks far below.

Israfel sat beside him, glossy black wings stretched out over the grass, twitching slightly in the wind. The golden cracks in his skin seemed to shimmer under the faint light of the stars.

Jupiter watched his boyfriend with interest, trying to read his thoughts. Celestial Beings were always so much more difficult to truly see than regular people—the way that other people’s moods affected them, and the way they could change others in turn, meant that their own emotions were clouded in a strange mist that made them impossible to understand from a Witness’s eyes. Jupiter didn’t mind, though—he was more than happy to just sit here, quietly enjoying a peaceful night with the person he held dearest.

As if on queue, Israfel turned to him, dark skin flushing as their eyes met. “Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

Jupiter gave a small hum of agreement, a tiny smirk twitching at the corners of his lips. “It’s brilliant,” he said quietly, gaze drifting over the endless expanse of stars that illuminated the inky black sky.

Israfel shuffled closer, and Jupiter found himself leaning against his side, settling his head into the crook of Israfel’s neck, where he seemed to fit perfectly, as if that particular spot was  _made_ for him. Israfel followed Jupiter’s gaze, and the light of a million sparkling pinpricks were reflected in his deep brown eyes as he stared off into the distance.

“I could take you up there,” Israfel murmured. “Imagine the two of us, soaring over the waves. Only the stars and each other to keep us company.”

Jupiter let out a soft chuckle. “That does sound lovely, dear, but you’re forgetting I don’t have wings.”

“You do have  _me_ ,  though,” Israfel said, and his wings stretched out to their full, awe-inspiring size, so that Jupiter could almost count every shiny, gold-speckled feather that twitched with nervous excitement. “I mean it. I could take you out there.”

Jupiter was silent for a moment. “Is that... safe?”

Black wings enfolded him in an instant. “I would never let anything happen to you, dear. You know that,” Israfel said earnestly, and Jupiter could see sincerity rolling off him in waves—a rare sign of genuine emotion he didn’t get to glimpse in Israfel’s kind all that often.

Jupiter stood up, and Israfel followed close behind, wings flapping in small bursts as he found his sense of balance. Israfel took a tentative step towards Jupiter, and Jupiter sucked in a breath. Israfel took Jupiter’s hands in his own.

“May I...?” Israfel prompted quietly. Jupiter gave two short nods, and then he was flying.

It had all happened in an instant—wrapping wings around his boyfriend like a protective cocoon, Israfel had leapt from the cliff’s edge, feathers rustling wildly as the pair plummeted towards the ocean in a dizzying spiral. But just as the water came rushing up to meet them, his wings had snapped open, and in a perfectly calculated manoeuvre they had begun to glide smoothly over the surface of the water. Israfel had his arms locked tightly around Jupiter’s torso, and Jupiter could feel the way Israfel’s muscles pumped with each beat of his powerful wings. Letting out a delighted laugh, Jupiter extended one hand towards the ocean, briefly making contact and wetting his fingertips before Israfel turned upwards sharply, wings flaring as he changed course.

Jupiter beamed as the pair climbed higher into the sky. The air was bitingly cold, but Jupiter was far too exhilarated to notice. Israfel quickly shifted his grip on Jupiter’s body, so that he was carrying him bridal-style with Jupiter’s arms hooked around his neck. In that moment, Jupiter felt as though he could have reached out and plucked every silver star from its place in the sky, dot by tiny, shining dot.

“Hold tight, love,” Israfel warned, briefly leaning his head against Jupiter’s. “We’re heading back down.”

Israfel folded his wings slightly, and they began to pitch downwards at an increasingly thrilling speed, aiming for the same spot at the cliff face that they had taken flight from. Jupiter clung tighter to his boyfriend’s neck, and as they rapidly drew closer, Israfel began to slow down, repositioning his wings and beating them forcefully to fight against the momentum he’d built up. Eventually, he landed, softly and upright at the top of the cliff, with a grinning Jupiter cradled carefully in his arms.

Jupiter let out a small, almost disbelieving laugh, and before he quite realised what he was doing he had pulled himself up to Israfel’s eye level and pressed a euphoric kiss against his lips. 

Jupiter and Israfel had never actually  _kissed_ before. They’d been seeing each other for a few months now, and by this point were remarkably comfortable with one another... but Celestial Beings were an odd kind at times, and neither of them had yet been bold enough to initiate such a meaningful, irrevocable type of physical contact.

But now, curled up in Israfel’s arms and blood pumping with adrenaline, Jupiter had found himself completely absorbed in emotions, and had acted without much thought. And it had felt so, so  _ right  _ that he instantly wished he’d had the courage to do it sooner.

Israfel was stunned at first, but soon curved a hand around the base of Jupiter’s neck, returning the gesture. He began to carefully set his boyfriend down on the ground, and only once the ginger-haired man was fully upright did the two break apart at last.

They shared a quiet, breathless laugh, and Jupiter rocked back and forth on his heels, seeming a little dazed. “You really do know how to make any night spectacular, don’t you, Izzy?”

Israfel’s only reaction to this was to embrace him with great black wings, humming with elation as their lips met for another long, joyous kiss under the moonlight.

“Only for you, my love,” Israfel whispered.  “ _Always_ for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D O U B L E W H A M M Y  
> Nevermoorians get two oneshots in the span of an hour. As a treat.  
> Anyway y’all thought last chap was gay? OhoHOH do I have news for you,,  
> (Btw I know that many of you from the discord server will have already seen this one early, shout out to y’all, champions kings and queens every one of ya)


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